Opposites Attract
by Shadethehedgehog1413
Summary: When Bruce Wayne's sister, Brianna Wayne decides to visit Gotham, she doesn't expect any special attention. Little does she realize the Clown Prince of Crime has developed quite an interest in her. And Joker always gets what he wants. (Based on the 2004 series, The Batman)


For the people who reside in sleepless cities alike Las Vegas or New York, they know from experience how noisy it can become. This bustling civilization I casually navigated through wasn't essentially restless, excluding nocturnal vigilantes and criminals, but Gotham still received a fair amount of ruckus. Now being a perfect example; three or maybe four blocks away police sirens wailed, gunshots echoed throughout abandoned alleyways, and of course impatient drivers wouldn't cease slamming on their car horns. Residents in a five mile radius surely heard this, yet I couldn't. Only sounds of slushy snow being crumbled beneath rubbery tires occupied my ears. Nothing completely unusual though. See, I have this unexplained tendency of zoning out on my surroundings whenever I think about something too much.

Probably a terrible thing to occur whilst operating a vehicle, but there's nothing I could do to make it leave.

I applied pressure against the brakes as another green traffic light transcends into crimson. Slowing down to a steady halt, my glittery cerulean nails began tapping absentmindedly against the leathery steering wheel and again I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. God, these intersections take five freakin' minutes just to change lights. And this tense silence taking up every inch of confined space wasn't helping much either.

So after an entire hour of uninterrupted silence, I finally decided to attempt striking up conversation."You excited about meeting your Uncle Bruce, hon?" My six year old son, Axel, had been uncharacteristically silent since we arrived and exited the plane. It didn't add up; beforehand, Axel had been so excited about visiting Gotham for the holidays that he couldn't stop talking about it. But now he's merely shrugging indifferently and silently uttered, "I don't know..."

"That's a surprise. For weeks, you've been looking forward to this vacation and possibly catching a glimpse of Batman. Is something bothering you?" Rumors regarding a masked vigilante greatly resembling a bat had spread like wildfire across the country, always beating bad guys using advanced machinery even military forces can't obtain. From what I've heard, the crime rates down here have plummeted severely ever since he first appeared long ago. Unfortunately, Batman's presence has attracted crazy villains with strange names and even stranger capabilities. But that's just some unproven rumor, right?

Finally the defiant red light flickered green and I progressed forward, giving fleeting glances at familiar buildings or street names that still remained unaltered. Axel's dark chocolate eyes were downcast beneath equally brown locks, flipping through the pages of his favorite comic book with disinterest.

"I've never met Uncle Bruce. What if he hates me?" Truly astonishing how one question could deliver such immense heartache; I silently thank whatever Gods may be for another red light preventing me from driving. Under no circumstances should my own brother feel hatred towards Axel. For God's sake, Bruce donates more money to suffering orphans than other-more selfish-billionaires would ever consider sacrificing in a lifetime.

Although, that positive piece of evidence doesn't diminish the fact that I haven't spoken with my twin brother since our parents untimely funeral took place. Never sent a single e-mail, text message, or even called to say 'hello.' Anytime I attempted calling him, I received the same result every single time-Alfred would answer and explain how 'Master Bruce' was far too busy with something at the moment.

Alfred has been a loyally devoted butler to the Wayne family for over twenty years now, so he knew well enough about the special bond Brucie and I shared as innocent children. Preferably meaning he could sense how disappointed I really felt when falsely acting like everything was fine. But even though my heart was consumed in loneliness, I could never be angry or feel jealousy. Being Gotham's most eligible bachelor and running Wayne Enterprises-even with a shared ownership-would completely take up anybodies daily schedule. I can't help but wonder how Brucie manages both time consuming tasks on a day-to-day basis.

"Axel, why on Earth would my own brother hate you? If he's to hate anyone, it'll probably be your fa-I mean...you-know-who." Mentioning Axels absent father seemed to deafen all noise. I always used precautionary measures when talking about Laurence for Axels sake. The last thing he needed, especially now, was reminiscing on the tragic events that followed after that day. Same goes for me.

Casually, I diverted the depressing conversation onto a more serene route. "There's nothing to worry about. Your uncles the nicest guy I know, so I know he'll love meeting his nephew." Axel seemed partially convinced by my statement and replied with a small smile. Then again, what if I was wrong? What if after all this time Bruce has changed? At age six, we were separated to live with our approved legal guardians; his being Alfred here in Gotham and mine being Aunt Sara in California.

I still can't comprehend why I couldn't stay in Gotham with my brother and my friends. Perhaps Aunt Sara was my Godmother? Maybe they figured raising two children would be too much for Alfred to maintain? Or maybe the truth runs deeper than anything else I could possibly imagine.

A scoff of disbelief barged through my lips. 'Quit making up conspiracies, Bri. Granted, your parents were the richest billionaires ever known and no doubt people would kill to obtain such a fortune. But what would anyone want with you? Hmm, I'd bet on…nothing.' My baby blue eyes sparkled like firecrackers in July when approaching my destination-the colossal mansion, Wayne Manor, in all its glory.

The extensive cobblestone driveway greatly resembled a barren desert; there weren't any upscale vehicles parked outside and lacked the presence of people. Almost gave off a vibe that nobody lived here in years. I would've actually bought that if not for the finely trimmed topiaries and gigantic fountain continuously spewing out sparkling water. Besides, I know well enough that Bruce would never leave this place. I gingerly maneuvered my rented white mustang around the large fountain and parked just a few yards left of the elegantly fashioned staircase. Afterwards, I forcefully extracted the jingly-jangly car keys from within the ignition and carelessly tossed them inside my purse. Barely paying attention as to where it landed. I instead became greatly mystified with how clammy my palms became from cold sweat and my heart rate increasing.

'Why am I nervous? This is family—not a planned assassination.' Sadly, that didn't diminish the uneasy feeling inside my stomach. Felt sickeningly similar to nausea.

Lately, something's just been telling me to stay away. Haven't figure out what though.

About ten minutes later, I'm standing less than three feet away from the front door with Axel right beside me. His face appeared emotionless, much like my own. Only notable difference between us is that he's got a valid excuse for being nervous. But when my thumb pressed the intercom button, I knew there was no going back now.

"Yes?" Answered the voice of an older gentleman—obviously British based on the unmistakable accent.

"Guess who!" I chirped using irregular enthusiasm. Given how terrible things have been lately, speaking with such optimism was both unexpected and unheard of. But I didn't want, nor did I need, anybody else feeling sympathetic towards me.

Alfred rewarded me with a small chuckle.

"Judging by your enthusiastic tone, I'd have to bet it's Madam Brianna." What would any pair billionaire twins be without the cliché, matching names? You already knew my brothers, but mother and father had deemed me as Brianna Wayne. Not an insufferable selection; I actually like it. Well, more like I greatly favored the shortened abbreviation of the name, Bri. No overly complicated reasons involved, I just found it less formal and proper than Brianna.

"Nice to know you haven't forgotten a pretty face. But can you remember my strict policy?" I couldn't help smirking.

"No formalities?" Yeah, I really don't like formal things. It widely varies from wearing scratchy, frou-frou clothing; to acting all proper and civilized around company like a freakin' princess of England or something. But more than anything, I couldn't stand being addressed as Madam or M'Lady. And Alfred clearly hadn't forgotten.

"None. Whatsoever." I enunciated both words slowly to get my point across. Seriously, when you really get right down to it, I'm just an independent female. Not a spoiled and pampered princess cowering behind her soldiers. "But that's beside the point. What's important is how great a distance I've traveled just to see my brother. Is he...is he here?" I asked quite timidly.

"Certainly," There was a momentary pause of silence which I figured must've been Alfred sending the elevator down. "Please, come in." My most recent assumption was proven correct upon seeing both doors slide open and reveal a spacious elevator. Feeling a lot more confident now than I had throughout this entire week-or month for that matter-I sauntered inside carrying a red, lightly packed suitcase. Axel followed suit with just a backpack.

Moving upwards added unneeded pressure onto my groaning stomach, taunting whatever breakfast and lunch I had earlier to shoot upwards. My only defense being a forceful gulp.

'Okay, what am I so terrified about?' I thought. 'Being reunited with Bruce has put a lot of stress on me lately, but that isn't completely it. There's something else; another contributing factor that prefers to remain anonymous. But I can-' Right when the elevator bumped to a sudden halt, my heart nearly exploded out my chest. Apparently, I zoned out again. Note to self: get medicine or see somebody about this habit.

Beyond the metallic entryway I could faintly distinguish two new yet recognizable voices.

"You have a visitor, Master Bruce." Obviously this voice belonged to Alfred.

"Who is it this time?"

Then the doors slid open silently, revealing both men. Here goes everything I guess.

"Your sis-" Before Alfred could finish speaking, I had already bolted outside and successfully tackled my brother down with a lung crushing hug. There were only a slim number of people-you could count them all on one hand-that could actually get away with doing this. And if Bruce's amused laughter was anything to go on, I'd say he still considered me one of them.

"Long time no see, little brother." I greeted casually, despite the fact I just toppled him over like a professional football player—ironically being a sport neither of us have played before. I then rolled lazily off his bulky chest, which felt very similar to an immovable brick wall, and stood up before extending a helping hand towards my fallen brother. He gladly accepted.

"Brianna, we're twins. Which means we're both twenty-eight." Bruce pointed out.

"True. But, need I remind you, we don't share the same birthday. I was born first at 11:57 pm on February 18th. You were born after at 12:15 am on February 19th, irrefutable evidence that makes me your older sister." As kids, we would bicker aimlessly about this specific subject more than any other—so many times that it eventually matured into a daily pastime. And Bruce discovered a strategy that never failed to spur me on.

"You can believe whatever you want, sis. I won't judge." Bruce shrugged off the debate using a tone that sounded uninterested while playfully rolling his eyes. He'd perfected this simple strategy long ago. Never once failed then and it certainly hadn't failed now. If anyone could sketch my facial reaction just then, there'd be an annoyed scowl and would undoubtedly include one of those anime veins popping out along my forehead.

Bruce's gaze rested upon me for a moment longer until setting his sights upon Axel, presently observing every unknown nook and cranny of the fancy living room.

"Who's this little guy?" Upon slowly realizing everyone's attention was turned towards him, Axel decided to shield himself behind my skinny legs like a second shadow. Didn't offer much coverage but there wasn't any other alternative. This didn't even have anything to do with meeting Bruce; according to his teachers, Axels been acting incredibly shy towards other children and struggles in making friends. A bewildering statement considering Axels always possessed restless energy—especially during pregnancy when he wouldn't cease kicking for even five seconds. So afterwards, I dialed up his doctor and explained our predicament, which he identified as a typical habit most children develop when their parents split up. And Axel had only been four years old when it happened.

"Bruce, I want you to meet your nephew." I carefully stepped aside until Axel became fully exposed again. "His name is Axel." Bruce's casually happy expression was swiftly replaced with absolute surprise, directly implying that nobody ever notified him beforehand. Then again, barely anybody else knows what happened that day. Reason: unlike Brucie, I always preferred flying below the medias radar. Wanna know why? Because the last thing I- or any woman-wants after having spent four agonizing hours forcing out one baby was being pestered by the picture-hungry paparazzi! Especially when my naturally wavy black hair looks like a sweaty rats nest. Bottom line, the only news story I'll willingly share is when somebody uncovers my lifeless corpse.

Bruce's voice relinquished the hold my deep thoughts had over me.

"Wow," He chuckled "Seems like only yesterday when we were just little kids, and now we have kids of our own." Wait a minute, we? Meaning both me and him had kids? Right when I was going to ask that very question and find out for myself, some mysterious force beat me to the punch.

A young male preferably between ages twelve and thirteen made his presence known by passing through the kitchen doorway. Is this what Bruce implied? Did he have a child as well? They seemed to share distinct qualities, such as spikey raven black hair and a healthy tone of peach skin. However, I noticed one distinguishable feature; he possessed dark green eye color. But that dominant gene could've been inherited anywhere. Perhaps his mother had green eyes or somebody in the Wayne genealogy passed on the trait.

"Hey, Brucie, who's that?" Bruce's gaze left Axel and followed my intrigued gesture, barely quick enough to witness the nameless child make a poor attempt at stifling his laughter. Bruce always referred to my favorite nickname as utterly embarrassing while I, for one, thought it was adorable. He couldn't even hate me for making the name so popular; I was only three years old and was purposely attempting to pronounce his name. How could I have known?

"Oh, right," Bruce walked over besides the much shorter male. "Brianna, this is Dick Grayson. I adopted him after his parents passed away."

"P-passed...away?" I wheezed out breathlessly. My throat was becoming unbelievably tight, like a ravenous boa constrictor raveled itself around me way too tightly. Why does this keep happening? Another innocent witnessed his parent's imminent death by the hands of some greedy, coldblooded criminal only looking out for themselves. At least that's what I suspected based on Bruce's discreetly saddened demeanor. "I-I uh…don't know what to say. Other then, I'm so sorry for your loss."

"It's alright," Dick assured confidently. "I still miss them a lot, but ever since Bruce took me in, I've been feeling better." For that, I was grateful. Rather than ending up in some overpopulated orphanage somewhere, Dick had been fortunate enough to gain a caring family. One of which was fully capable of helping him power through this hardship. Wish I had someone like that growing up.

I remember sobbing uncontrollably for several days after arriving in California. Days eventually progressed into weeks, and weeks turned into months before the horrific memory gradually started to fade. Throughout high school, there were often times I would daydream and wonder how Bruce was holding up. He seemed content, obviously, but did he have recurring nightmares about their murder? Did he ever...ever think of committing suicide much like I did?

Those dangerous thoughts rarely surfaced during the really hideous thunderstorms, when every window obtained a thin layer of differently portioned raindrops and slender streams. Every time I glanced outwards, it just became another cruel reminder that I was alone. Don't get me wrong, Aunt Sara was always helpful and considerate but couldn't totally understand what I was going through. Nobody could. So back when I lacked common sense, I figured the only available answer was suicide and rejoining my parents again. Like I said, this was long before common sense came into my life.

"I'm happy to hear that." I replied nonchalantly, flawlessly accompanied with a heartfelt smile before swiveling my eyes upwards to Bruce. There were certain things my brother was rightfully entitled to be informed about; having a nephew or brother-in-law being perfect examples. Learning his twin sister contemplated-nonetheless attempted-killing herself more than once was something better left locked away in the darkness. "Well Bruce, we clearly have a lot of catching up to…" I trailed off midsentence due to this high frequency noise filling my ears. It sounded like...I dont know, like buzzing?

There weren't any annoying wasps or bees flying around the room-none that I could see anyways. Plus, the unidentified buzzing sounded way too rhythmic and orderly to belong to a measly insect. But it also couldn't be a cell phones vibrations either. Same goes for an outdated pager.

'Whatever or wherever that bloody thing is, somebody shut it off! It's driving my ears batty!' How ironic; My whole life I've been an animal lover and now I have the sensitive hearing of a chihuahua.

For a moment, I internally panicked with believing I actually lost enough sanity to the point where I'd start hearing imaginary sounds. That can actually happen when your occupation revolves around healing mentally disabled patients. FYI, I'm a professional psychologist-the polar opposite of that blonde whack-job I saw on TV, Harleen Quinzel. Anyways, Bruce subconsciously eased my worries by digging into the inner pocket of his jacket and silencing that infernal noise. Yet oddly enough, decided against revealing the device to check his notifications.

"I'm really sorry about this Bri, but there's a situation down at Wayne Enterprises that requires my attention." Bruce explained. He didn't miss the look of disappointment written across my face. Yes, I do realize how important maintaining his profession means to him-I feel the same way about mine-but even being in his presence, and I still can't get a moment alone. But did I really expect any less? Guys leave me all the time; its practically a rule.

Surprisingly cold fingers tilted my chin until I was reluctantly staring into those eyes again. "How about this: you and Axel spend the night here and we'll talk over breakfast tomorrow?" Bruce offered kindheartedly. I guess that would provide more time to cover all the memorable milestones we've surpassed up until this moment in time. And chances are, I wont even stay up past eleven with this heavy exhaustion weighing me down.

"That sounds wonderful." Seeing all matters were officially resolved, Alfred escorted Bruce towards the elevator while Dick hastily retreated off towards his own sleeping quarters for the night. Speaking of such, I, too, desperately craved rejuvenating rest after today's endeavors. Axel wasn't fairing any better; practically curled up with a pillow on the couch.

A moment following Bruce's departure, Alfred resumed basic chores like dusting priceless antiquities occupying the shelves and organizing various items littered across the glass coffee table. Meanwhile, I seated myself besides a blissfully slumbering Axel and ever so gently stroked his bangs backwards.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing the guest bedrooms for you and your son, Madam Brianna. I could gladly escort Master Axel to his if you'd like." Alfred offered whilst diligently keeping his attention on dusting a fragile red vase.

"I'd greatly appreciate that Alfred. Thank you ." I answered politely despite the annoyed feeling inside. Dear God, how I absolutely loathe formalities-they're just completely unnecessary in today's modern culture. Unless America suddenly reverts into a democratic society governed solely by a prince, princess, queen or more likely king, then i'll willingly accept formalities. But because Alfred is strictly required to behave civilized and proper while performing butler duties, I'll have to accept that.

Given permission, Alfred proceeded to lightly jostle a sleepy Axel until becoming conscious enough to take note of his surrounding environment and follow the butler without tripping over his own two feet. I stayed seated a moment longer to watch them vanish the onyx hallway together, leaving me alone to cautiously venture down another equally darkened hallway. The freshly waxed floorboards creaked lowly beneath my Michael Kor boots, effectively increasing my unexplained paranoia. I swear, I felt somebodies sweltering breath ghost across my neck, provoking a round of prickly goosebumps. This doesn't make any sense; Bruce and I are still okay. What else on Earth could I be afraid of?

Finally, I reached my final destination-my old bedroom.

Or so I thought.

Resting up against the cream plastered walls was a queen sized mattress, beautifully dressed with snowflake cotton polyester sheets, five or more plush pillows, all topped off by an incredibly soft, silky comforter. Positioned directly opposite from my wide bed was a set of double doors, presenting a personal balcony that grants you a breathtaking view of the...bloody night sky? Huh. Can't say we get many of those over in California.

Practically everything looked refurbished and expensively new-even the sky looked different. My memories, meanwhile, hadn't differed even slightly. Permanently implanted behind that pine wood dresser lay a massively sized crevice after repeatedly launching my soccer ball against that same area. Normally, a child knocking a measly ball against a sturdy wall and creating such collateral damage was an impossibility. Maybe I had an ingrown leg of solid steel. Maybe the adrenaline rush blinded me and I acted too energetically. You can't prove anything. Other memories varied slowly falling asleep to a majestic night sky littered with twinkling constellations and awakening to mothers angelic voice the following morning. Simple things to others but something I still hold near and dear.

Now I lay protectively wrapped in a makeshift cocoon of silky fabric, nestled deeply against memory foam pillows. Ugh, forget deep tissue massages and mud baths. All I needed to unwind was this luxurious bedroom and a faithful husband who doesn't abandon me for a ditsy college broad.

'Pfft, keep dreaming. The bedroom is a possibility, but finding a man? It'll take a miracle t-' An audible thump disrupted my sarcastic thoughts.

What in bloody hell was that?!

All exhaustion was forced outta my being as I locked eyes with a dark, ominous figure looming maliciously over the railing of my private balcony. Was that...a person? But how is that remotely possible? I know for a fact that Wayne Manor is impossible to scale-don't ask. Whatever that thing is, it didn't move a muscle. Just continued staring intently with those ghastly albino eyes.

I didn't budge an inch, nor did I cry for help. Every fiber of my being screamed to remain absolutely still and silent, fearing any sudden movement would provoke his predatory senses. All I could do was stare helplessly into those luminescent red eyes shining abnormally bright, competing against this petrifying grin that sent my limbs into a shivering mess. Dear God, what'll happen if I fall asleep? He could come back. Could return long after midnight and effortlessly unlock those flimsy doors, enabling him to sneak inside. Silently awaiting the ideal moment to speedily slit my throat before a single syllable escapes me. Part of me urged to scream for Alfred; perhaps this intruders reflexes weren't fast like lightning. Or I could discreetly attempt dialing 911 beneath the blankets if he doesn't vamoose soon enough.

He must've sensed my mental pleas somehow. Blinking beneath a millisecond, the ominous figure disappeared like a ghost, leaving no evidence whatsoever that indicated his uninvited arrival. It almost seemed like a dreary hallucination resulting from heavy exhaustion. But I knew that couldn't have been it-there was a living, breathing person standing right outside and I understood why.

Something's been warning me about staying far away from Gotham. And now, I think that something just found me.


End file.
